Page images
[ocr errors]


No idly-feign'd poetic pains,

My sad love-lorn lamentings claim;
No shepherd's pipe-Arcadian strains ;

No fabled tortures, quaint and tame;
The plighted faith—the mutual filame-

The oft attested Pow'rs above;
The promis'd Father's tender name ;

These were the pledges of my love!


Encircled in her clasping arms,

How have the raptur'd moments flown!
How have I wish'd for fortune's charms,

For her dear sake, and her's alone!
And must I think it! is she gone,

My secret heart's exulting boast ?
And does she heedless hear my groan

And is she ever, ever lost?


Oh! can she bear so base a heart,

So lost to honor, lost to truth,
As from the fondest lover part,

The plighted husband of her youth !
Alas! life's path may be unsmooth!

Her way may lie thro' rough distress!
Then, who her pangs and pains will sooth,
Her sorrows share, and make them less.

Ye winged hours that o’er us past,

Enraptur'd more, the more enjoy'd,
Your dear remembrance in my breast,

My fondly-treasur'd thoughis employ'},

That breast how dreary now, and void,

For her too scanty once of room ! Ev'n ev'ry ray of hope destroy'd,

And not a wish to gild the gloom!


The morn that warns th' approaching day,

Awakes me up to toil and woI see the hours in long array,

That I must suffer, lingering, slow.
Full many a pang, and many a throe,

Keen recollection's direful train
Must wring my soul, ere Phoebus, low,

Shall kiss the distant western main.


And when my nightly couch I try,

Sore harass'd out with care and grief, My toil-beat nerves, and tear-worn eye,

Keep watchings with the nightly thiefOr if I slumber, Fancy, chief,

Reigns haggard-wild, in sore affright ; Ev'n day, all-bitter, brings relief,

From such a horror-breathing night.

IX. 0! thou bright queen, who o'er th’expanse

Now highest reign'st, with boundless sway! Oft has thy silent-marking glance

Observ'd us, fondly-wand'ring, stray ! The time, unheeded, sped away,

While love's luxurious pulse beat high, Beneath thy silver-gleaming ray,

To mark the mutual kindling eye.

Oh! scenes in strong remembrance set!

Scenes, never, never, to return!
Scenes, it in stupor I forget,

Again I feel, again I burn
From ev'ry joy and pleasure torn,

Life's weary vale I'll wander thro’;
And hopeless, comfortless, I'll mourn

A faithless woman's broken vow.



Tune-"Finlayston House."

FATE gave the word, the arrow sped,

And pierc'd my darling's heart;
And with him all the joys are fled

Life can to me impart.

By cruel hands the sapling drops,

In dust dishonor'd laid:
So fell the pride of all my hopes,

My age's future shade.

The mother linnet in the brake,
Bewails her ravish'd

So I, for my lost darling's sake,

Lament the live-day long.

Death, oft I've fear'd thy fatal blow,

Now, fond I bare my breast, 0, do thou kindly lay me low

With him I love, at rest!



THE wind blew hollow frae the hills,

By fits the sun's departing beam Look'd on the fading yellow woods

That wav'd o'er Lugar's winding stream : Beneath a craigy steep, a bard,

Laden with years and meikle pain, In loud lament bewail'd his lord,

Whom death had all untimely ta’en.

He lean'd him to an ancient aik,

Whose trunk was mould'ring down with years ; His locks were bleached white wi' time,

His hoary cheek was wet wi' tears!
And as he touch'd his trembling harp,

And as he tun'd his doleful sang,
The winds, lamenting thro' their caves,

To Echó bore the notes alang.

[ocr errors]

“Ye scatter'd birds that faintly sing,

The reliques of the vernal quire! Ye woods that shed on a' the winds

The honors of the aged year!

A few short months, and glad and gay,

Again ye'll charm the ear and e'e; But nocht in all revolving time

Can gladneas bring again to me.

am a bending aged tree,

That long has stood the wind and rainBut now has come a cruel blast,

And my last hald of earth is gane; Nae leafo' mine shall greet the spring,

Nae simmer sun exalt my bloom; But I maun lie before the storm,

And ithers plant them in my room.

"I've seen sae monie changefu' years,

On earth I am a stranger grown ; I waader in the ways of men,

Alike unknowing and unknown: Unheard, unpitied, unreliev'd,

I bear alane my lade o' care, For silent, low, on beds of dust,

Lie a' that would my sorrows share.

• And last (the sum of a' my griefs !)

My noble master lies in clay; The flow'r amang our barons bold,

His country's pride, his country's stay: In weary being now I pine,

For a' the life of life is dead, And hope has left my aged ken,

On forward wing for ever fled.

· Awake thy last sad voice, my harp!

The voice of wo and wild despair! Awake, resound thy latest lay,

Then sleep in silence evermair!

« PreviousContinue »